I Didn't Notice
by OnnaMurcielago666
Summary: "Dave," John whined, rising and frowning at the stickiness of his throbbing knees. John glanced at them and sighed, picking the rough tattered jean away from the rawness and seeing blood. "I'm fine, I told you. How's life with Bro?". [Sad Hammertime, bullying... I do not endorse bullying. "The world is made of love and peace!"] Rated M for swearing.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This is my first post-crash totally-new creation. This is the first attempt I've ever made to write anything involving John or Dave, and anything I've done to be a HammerTime fic. Let me know if I get off-character because I hate when writers take everyone so far out of their character!**

**~Homestuck is not mine!~**

John fingered the little button on his grey PDA, debating anxiously on dialing Dave's number. He winced, feeling the burn in his ribs. The dial tone caught his breath in his throat. Ringing over and over, the little device made him sweat until the answering 'klik' came. '_Be cool, John._'

Dave scowled and stilled his favourite spinning discs to reach for the vibrating mobile resting on his turntable. He smoothed over his annoyance with some Strider cool and picked it up; the caller ID read 'John'.

"Yo. Strider, here," He drawled, "how's it goin'?" John smiled faintly as the hum of Texas and Dave laid-back life filtered through the little speaker to tease him. Faintly, it blotted out his own and John forgot about school and his gangly pale chicken legs.

"Hey, Dave," John leaned back on his good arm and said, "Same old same." Suddenly, as John made to recline onto his bed, a sharp sickle of pain slashed up his spine and he gasped. "School just…" John sat back and rubbed the ache in his side. "sucks. Y'know?"

"I feel you, man," Dave told John, reaching over to turn off the tables and giving them one final turn. "but are you okay?" He lifted his lanky frame out of the old desk chair, loving the irony that his joints creaked instead of the antique, and stretched. "That sounds harsh. What happened?"

"I fell on the way home today." John lied, forcing his eyes off his own battered reflection on his computer screen to believe it better. "Just on my butt. It's a little bit sore, that's all." Dave was silent for a moment and, as Dave's slow breathing came through, John touched his own head and tousled his dark hair gently so as not to aggravate the goose egg forming there. For a moment, John drowned himself in the Texan distractions –his Dad had never let John go over before- and tried to imagine Dave's room as he pretended his life was as perfect as Dave's. Cool, confident, ironic Dave.

"You sure?" John blinked, wincing silently as his swollen eye protested, and looked down. In his room, Dave asked the question slowly as he spread himself out on his bed like a big lazy cat. "are you okay?"

"Dave," John whined, rising and frowning at the stickiness of his throbbing knees. John glanced at them and sighed, picking the rough tattered jean away from the rawness and seeing blood. "I'm fine, I told you. How's life with Bro?" His lame question brought him time enough to make it to the only bathroom and shuck off his ruined jeans.

"He's cool. Y'know, still doing the puppet thing." Dave told him, sounding close to sleep. "We got in a wicked strife a few days ago though… tore up the place." Dave went into a deeper explanation of their ninja strife with prompting, leaving John to gawk at himself.

His legs were covered in shoe hits both old and new, swelling in other spaces where a bruise had yet to form, and bled at knees. His jeans were ripped at the knee from when he'd fallen while running and, reluctantly, John readied the rubbing alcohol.

"And then he hit me with the shower of puppets and absconded." Dave concluded, waiting too long for John's usual laugh. "John, I got buried in puppet dick. Insert laugh here, Eggderp." John nodded to himself, suddenly realized that Dave couldn't see him nodded, and grunted.

"Yeah, cool. Puppets."

"John, are you sure you're okay?" At the question, John gasped, spilling the rubbing alcohol, and cried out in pain the first word that came to mind: "DAVE!" He hissed and quickly put the rubbing alcohol on the counter, abandoning his PDA on the edge of the tub, and scrambled to rinse the burning solution away at the sink.

"JOHN!" The young black-haired boy jumped as his father came bursting in, smashing the doorknob into his bruised ribs, and drew another cry from his lips. The older Egbert caught sight of a son at the sink, pants-less, washing his hands, and blushed. "Are you master-"

"Dad!" John turned to face him, baring his swollen face by mistake, and shoved the man out of the bathroom. "SHUT UP! I AM NOT!"

"What happened to your-"

"**DAD**! **GO**!" "But you yelled 'DA-" "SHUT UP! I'M ON THE PHONE!" On the other end, Dave was staring at his ceiling in confusion, his blond eyebrows smooshing together at the top of his nose. What was John **doing**?

"John?"

"Dave?" John answered the phone shakily, capping something in the background. "Sorry about my Dad. He's so-"

"What were you doing, John?" Dave listened as John's breath caught and waited, getting a bit impatient. He sat up, propping himself up on his elbows, and frowned as only John could make him do. "You're acting totally uncool." Dave's muttered comment was in no way malicious, but it cut into John's heart. He panicked, his heart bursting in his chest as he tried to strip his grubby shirt off, and he met his own sad blue eyes in the bathroom mirror.

His shoulder ached from being held awkwardly and when he finally peeled his shirt away, he could see the bruises causing him the pain. A large stomp had left the shoulder blade dark and mottled, making it a disgusting sight. John smiled as he closed his eyes.

"I'm **fine**," He lied, feeling his aches and shames accumulate across his battered little body. He kept lying as heat tinged his face red, heating his ears, and he kept rambling his lie as his vision blurred with tears. Dave cut in from the other end.

"I'm coming over."

"Y-You can't!" john objected, frantically fishing medical tape and rolls of bandages from his bathroom cupboard. "My Dad-" "Fuck your Dad." Dave's growl chilled John's blood. "I'll be there in ten minutes."

**((And you'd better be ready! XD))**

**~Homestuck is not mine!~**

**A/N: I'm sorry. I read it aloud to myself and the last bit just came out. Dave! Get your mind out of the gutter! Any good so far? Or did that van make off with my writing ability? Let me know, people, and requests will be granted!**

**Keep it real, readers! I'm out!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

**~Homestuck is not mine!~**

John panicked and stared at is PDA, horrified by the dial tone issuing from the tiny device, and then he looked at himself in the mirror. His dark hair was dirty, a few remnants of his woodland shortcut stuck there, and he could see that his one eye was not going to cover up well. His torso was bruised –he wondered if a kick could break his ribs.

In a flurry of polysporin and bandage rolls, John wrapped himself up like a mummy wherever he could get away with it and hobbled across the hall to not only stash away his bloody clothes but dress in newer layers. He carefully manoeuvred a looser set of jeans over his aching hip bones and legs, whimpering to himself as they angered the wounds beneath, and bore the pain in his shoulder long enough to slip on a blue hoodie that would cover the most skin.

As he returned his PDA to his new pockets, John's hair fell forward, shedding a twig, and frantically he scrubbed the black mop to rid himself of the evidence. Wincing at the throb he'd instilled with the action, John parted his bangs again and –thank God!- it covered his eye in a dark curtain that wasn't too conspicuous. He had little time to primp because, as he was cleaning up the bathroom, the doorbell rang and he heard his dad answer it. Scrabbling to beat his father in a chaos if aching limbs, John stumbled into the hall and collided with the railing in time to hear a surprised 'David?' spill from his father's lips.

"Hey, Dave!" John said brightly as his best friend –t-shirt, shades, and all- strolled inside and past his flabbergasted father. "You're early!"

"You didn't say David would be coming over." His father spoke coolly, meeting Dave's eyes through the black shield and frowning at the lack of respect. They stared in what John could tell was equal dislike and, even though John's father always asked, Dave didn't even pretend to remove his shades. "Dear," Now attention was on him. "I have a meeting in-"

"Dad, I'm not your dear… I'm your **buddy**." John insisted embarrassedly, "We'll be fine! It's just for a couple of hours and then we'll be gone!"

"'Gone'?" John father wasn't reassured.

"Game sale at the depo." Dave supplied, adjusting but not removing his shades. "Bro said it had wicked deals on the good ones, so I told John. We were gonna check it." His lie was so smooth John swore his dad could have slip-'n'-slided on it, and he watched the older man buy it easily.

"Well," John's father was hesitant to leave still. "I have my phone, John. Text me when you leave…" With no good reason to stay and a better one to leave, John's father left the house and was soon driving out of sight.

Dave looked at John, who was still leaning on the railing, and scowled. "What is going on?"

"Nothing!" John thanked the gaming gods that his lie was good this time. His smile never faltered, lighting his face, and his voice remained crack-free as he sprang down the stairs to meet his blond buddy at the bottom. "I told you on the phone, I'm fine."

"John," Dave rumbled, but the dark-haired boy was already wandering into the kitchen in search of something to eat, the excuse of being starving fresh on his lips. He couldn't give Dave any time to speak of his cover would be blown and his fire-spitting friend would find out what had happened.

"Hungry?" John asked as he shuffled around in the fridge. "My Dad grabbed Doritos a couple days ago and" John fumbled when Dave came close and quickly pointed him to the correct cupboard in hopes that he would move back. "and juice is right here."

Unfortunately, Dave didn't move.

"John," From behind, Dave pushed the fridge door closed and pinned him between his arms; the only other sound was their breathing. "what's wrong?" Dave was relentless and, shaking a little, John turned with a sunny smile prepared for the Strider that made his pale lips tighten imperceptibly. John couldn't hold the smile in such close proximity with Dave's disapproving scowl and, with a small breath, he dropped it and looked past Dave at the kitchen door. If he had been quicker, he could have evaded Dave and this wouldn't have happened. If he had,- Suddenly, Dave brought up his hand to touch John's face and the slight black-haired teen flinched back when Dave's hot palm came close to his swollen eye.

"Dave," John began, trying to find a way to explain the response to his touch, but Dave raised an eyebrow impatiently and John couldn't lie anymore. "don't." He whispered desperately.

"Sorry, dude," Dave mumbled smoothly, bringing his hand closer and brushing away the curtain John had made with his bangs. "It has to be- done." John winced slightly as Dave's voice slipped, having finally unveiled the puffy eye and the bruise dominating his cheekbone. John took a quick breath, praying this would satisfy the blond teen and that they could go out and forget his injuries, but John was sadly surprised by what Dave did next.

Dave breathed shakily, his fingers quivering as they touched the swelling and tucked John's bangs behind his ear. His warm hands wandered higher, grazing his head, and traced the growing lump with his mouth open and –for once in their friendship- speechless. The feeling was so unbelievably tender that John didn't know how to respond; his confident, ironic, distant Dave was so close and so expressive with him now that it made John's heart pound.

"Dave, I-" "What happened to you?" Dave asked quietly, his fingers dancing around the lump faintly.

John turned his head away. "School." He didn't dare tell he blond that he'd been cornered by a gang of some of the more athletic kids after school, or that they'd been roughing him up for weeks, or that this wasn't the worst he'd gotten; how uncool would that be?

"God damn it, John!" Dave suddenly slammed his hand against the fridge, making John yelp and squeeze his eyes shut. "Stop lying to me! **Who** was it?"

"Who **wasn't** it?" John rephrased sharply, swallowing and using the stunning power of the question to slip out of Dave's trap. He pulled the hoodie tight around himself, finding comfort in the warm thick material, and retreated from the Strider. "What does it matter? It's just a thing, and I can't do anything about it, so-" John twitched and squirmed as Dave caught the sleeve of his hoodie, pulling John back into is reach, and released a sharp but wordless cry when the material slipped of his on shoulder and bared bandage to the world. "Stop it, Dave!" John reclaimed the sleeve –too late to hide the bandages- and fled the kitchen frantically. "Leave it alone!"

"I won't." John's heart tripped at the firm declaration, tripping his feet up in turn and sending him sprawling on the stairs. A yowl of pain drew itself from John's throat, clawing its way to freedom, and John sat there with his body thrumming in pain as Dave caught up with him. "This is important."

"It's not." John said softly, swallowing around the lump in his tight throat. "It's just a thing. I can handle it." John looked up at Dave, his blue eyes watering even through his determination to be 'cool'. "I'm ok."

**~Homestuck is not mine!~**

**This is so fluffy I'm dying writing this! TT^TTo John! Dave! Why do you have to give me so many feels?**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three  
****~Homestuck is not mine!~**

"That is the biggest lie I've ever heard come out of your mouth, Egbert." Dave told him lowly, his voice rumbling in the air between them. "You're hurt," Dave brought up a hand to John's face again, not pausing when John flinched away, and touched his cheek gently. "and no one noticed…"

"I don't want anyone to notice!" John protested weakly, unable to brush the hand away. "I'm fine and it's all good! I can do this by myself!" John felt a traitorous tear break free and roll down his face, meeting Dave's thumb as the blond brushed the droplet away. The tender gesture unleashed a flood and, gasping for breath, John began to cry heavily as Dave coddled him and wiped at the seemingly-endless flow of tears. He never spoke, never joked, as John's distress surfaced and swept the black-haired teen away. The blond teen simply sat there with him on the stairs and tended to the emotional wound John was nursing finally, uttering the occasional 'shhh' as consolingly as he could.

When John finally calmed down, Dave helped him to his feet and the teens made their way to John's bedroom. Dave didn't speak, and John didn't trust himself no to make a fool of himself now that he'd been sobbing on the stairs like a baby, so the silence remained. In his room, John kicked the clothes out from under his bed, watching his blond friend inspect them critically from behind black shades, and sat on the edge of his bed.

"I've been having trouble… with some guys at school." John confessed, watching Dave poke his finger through a hole and remembering the sting of the cigarette as it burnt him. "It started… I don't even remember when, but this…" John waved a hand at himself callously, drawing Dave's attention away from the blood mess of his jeans. "It's been worse."

"And you haven't told anyone?" "No," John shook his head weakly, staring intently at his feet. "I couldn't. How lame would that be, telling my Dad some kids at school are picking on me?" John amazed himself with the venom in his own voice; did he hate himself so much? "I didn't want him to know… what they were saying about me."

"Saying?" Dave pressed, approaching John carefully and kneeling at his feet. He caught the glint of more tears in John's eyes before the teen looked away, focusing his stare on a Nicholas Cage poster.

"Names." John said obscurely, twiddling his thumbs together. "'Chicken legs', 'Egg-derp' … I-I didn't want to embarrass him. I was worried that he'd" –John's voice died in his throat as another tear fell and he struggled to continue. "that he'd hate me too if he knew… that I was scared to face all the other kids."John closed his eyes against another flood of tears and bit his lip when they fell anyways, trying to hold in the pathetic noises bubbling up his throat. "I don't want him to think I'm a loser too!"

"You're not a loser." Dave said fiercely, defending John from himself and the taunts that were haunting him. "You are **not **a loser, John Egbert. I've met losers before, and you are not one of them. You are strong, and smart, and funny, and geeky in the coolest fucking way."

"Liar." John snuffled, rubbing his eyes.

"Cool dudes don't lie." Dave told John seriously, batting the accusation away and putting a hand on John's knee. "How bad have they gotten you?"

"Once they were chasing me and I fell down some stairs." John admitted levelly, rubbing his wrist. "I dislocated my wrist and blamed it on myself. Dad bought that I lost my balance." He glanced at Dave, who was suddenly very silent, and pulled the collar of his hoodie up a little more. "I'm lucky this time… it's just some cuts and bruises."

"Lemme see, man." Dave said calmly, reaching up for the collar of his hoodie. John stiffened as Dave caught the fabric in his hand, stirring an anxiety he couldn't stop, and he struggled to hold his hoddie in place. "John?"

"I-" John could hear them taunting him again suddenly, turning his ears bright red with embarrassment. "I-" Dave bent his head into John's line of sight and, through his shades, sat with him until he released the vice grip on his hoodie. "Dave," John said suddenly, gripping Dave's hand with both of his. "promise you won't laugh?" Dave nodded, not trusting his voice, but John didn't let go.

With his free hand, Dave carefully removed his sunglasses and opened his eyes. "Promise."

John's tight grip on Dave's relaxed and, with a quivering lip, he let Dave carefully shimmy his hoodie over his head. He winced once, noticeably, as Dave tried to work the sweater over his injured shoulder, but Dave simply uttered a breathy apology and continued.

**~Homestuck is not mine!~**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter ****Four**  
**~Homestuck is not mine!~**

Dave was more careful with the bandages, tenderly peeling each strip away one by one until they lay all across John's lap like limp spaghetti. He'd felt his ironic heart twinge when trying to maneuver the sweater over John's sore head had hurt him, and Dave cursed his diminutive height again as he dexterously unwrapped John's battered torso. John's chest was a battlefield of scrapes and bruises, his shoulders and neck not spared any more than his stringy arms. Dave could even see the tail of a wicked bruise peeking up out of the hip of John's pants, hinting at further damage.

"Dave..." John whispered questioningly, ducking his head and squeezing his eyes shut tightly.

"It's cool," Dave replied stiffly, transfixed by the numerous injuries on his best friends pale skin. "don't worry, John."

"But Dave-" "John-" "-you're crying!" "What?!" Quyickly, Dave pulled back, pressing his palms to his cheeks to wipe away tears he discovered were never there. He froze, feeling the faintest blush dust across his face and darken his ears, and scowled at the other teen.

"Got you." John said lamely, pulling a small smile out for the blond to see.

"Seriously?"

"What?" John protested, "You looked like someone had blown up Lil' Cal. I needed to cheer you up somehow..." John smiled again, a little slyer, and continued. "and I got you good, didn't I?"  
Dave frowned and John waggled his eyebrows at him. "I knew it."

"Will you be telling Karkat or shall I?"

"YOU CAN'T!" John shrieked, catching hold of Dave's shirt and pleading with the blond. "HE'LL FREAK AND THEN EVERYONE AT SCHOOL WILL KNOW! AND THEN KANKRI WILL HEAR AND **THE WORLD** WILL KNOW!" He rose to his feet, tryign to make Dave understand how bad his idea had been, and looked down at Dave anxiously.

"Exactly." Dave muttered, looking up with a frsutrated tick in his cheek. "People should know what's happening, John. As your cool friend, I'm gonna tell you that you look like an abuse victim, and that's not cool at all." Dave took John by both shoulders, careful not to grip too tightly, and looked him in the eye as intensely as he could from three inches down. "Me and my friends don't take shit like this from people like them. We're getting the others involved," He dared John to protest, taking full advantage of his bare retinas to eye-lecture the black-haired teen into submission, and hufed in satisfaction when John said nothing. "Let's head to my house. Vantas and the others will fit better there."

"But this is a whole house, Dave," John mumbled reluctantly, "and Gamzee's really tall! How could-" John froze when a finger silenced him and watched Dave put on his shades like Horatio Caine before he looked back up at him and his questioning blue eyes.

Dave only said one thing. "Bro."

**~Homestuck is not mine!~**


End file.
